September 13, 2019
wet diapers, forced age regression, diaper fetish

Husband Forced Into Diapers (part 1)

I just had a conversation with a man, Timothy, that has been slowly turned into an abdl by his wife. It started with him wetting the bed at night, and this went for a week or two before she had a talk with him about wearing adult diapers to bed at night.  He protested, tried to argue about it, but he really couldn’t give her a good reason not to, other than that he didn’t want to do it.  They were going to have to buy a new mattress at that point, though, and she said that wasn’t happening until he was diapered up and protected at night. He started changing his own diapers at first, too embarrassed to have her do it, but then one morning he woke sick as a dog. She said she didn’t mind, and changed it, suggesting that he keep one on all day long, since he had things coming out of both ends at the time. What else do you think happened? Would you like someone to slowly put you in diapers the same way? Click right here to read the rest and call me for age regression phone sex and let me know about your fantasies! Tawny 1-888-430-2010 Click Here to chat with a phone sex mommy! #forcedageregression #diaperdomination #abdl #wetdiapers
May 14, 2010

Bed in Summer

In Winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle light. In Summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day? Robert Louis Stevenson Minnie
October 26, 2009

Witches

A be”witch”ing poem for the sake of the Halloween spirit. In a city, on the border Of Greenwich Harbor and Bly, Maine Lies a scene, dubbed out of order The people don’t like to explain For when nightfall finds its calling And the ground is damp with dew A strange, mist-like fog starts falling Believed from the witches brew. When the haze drifts on the hillside The scent of sulfur fills the air Streaking ‘cross the ebbing high tide Till the fog is everywhere Then the night becomes quite stoic ‘Neath the bright yellow facade And the townsfolk, not heroic Find their shelter e’er abroad. Thus, the city is a ghost town Every night when dusk appears But, alas, there’s milling around In spite of the chills and fears It is true, the rumored report Of the fog-like mist and smell For within a vacant resort Is the place where witches dwell. While the walls are swayed by motion And the roof is half intact The witches join to boil a potion Made of decades old extract To erase one’s recollections Of the town that they once knew Once they taste the rich confections That are in the witches’ brew. Minnie
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